William Walsh (1663–1708)

DISTRACTED with care

For Phillis the fair,

Since nothing could move her,

Poor Damon, her lover,

Resolves in despair

No longer to languish

Nor bear so much anguish;

But, mad with his love,

To a precipice goes,

Where a leap from above

Would soon finish his woes.

When in rage he came there,

Beholding how steep

The sides did appear,

And the bottom how deep;

His torments projecting,

And sadly reflecting

That a lover forsaken

A new love may get,

But a neck when once broken

Isn’t easily set:

And that he could die

Whenever he would,

But that he could live

But as long as he could:

How grievous soever

The torment might grow,

He scorned to endeavour

To finish it so;

And bold, unconcerned

At thoughts of the pain,

He calmly returned

To his cottage again.